That last drink was certainly my last
by xXAna-Christ-342Xx
Summary: Ronald had a Human life before he became a Shinigami...It's a life he msot certainly would rather forget...Rated for sexual themes, swearing, and abuse...Based off of my own headcanons on my Ronald Knox tumblr. ONE-SHOT


**_...For mischievous-shinigami on tumblr..._**

**_I do not own Kuroshitsuji or it's characters. I only own this plot and idea..._**

**_-oOoOoOo-_**

**_The end of his abuse, was the start of his new life_**  
**_With a single drink, he signed away his life_**  
**_And entered another, that didn't seem any better..._**  
**_But as long as that painful abuse is gone..._**  
**_He doesn't care what this new life has..._**  
**_So long as he isn't harmed by the ones he loves..._**

**_-oOoOoOo-_**

Home is supposed to be place where you feel safest, isn't it? It's where you sit down, relax a little...maybe get some comfort from you parents. Your mother makes a nice meal for dinner, your father ensures you are doing your school work, or maybe some chores to help the house. Maybe you have an older brother who's there to play with you, or just be the annoying older brother they're meant to be...That's what home is supposed to be like, right?

...Right?

No...not to me...I fear home...I don't go to school...I can't afford it...I never could. I don't know how to read or write. But I take any chance possible to leave the house...My home is scary. Both on the outside and the inside.

I live in a rundown place, over in East End. My family's poor. It's me, my mother and father, and my older brother, Matthew. It's cold in the winter, and blistering hot in the summer. Half our windows are broken, if not covered up by cardboard or blankets. Half the time I'm not home though, thankfully...

I don't hate the house itself, on the contrary, I'm glad I have it. A roof over my head, a place to sleep, even if it isn't much...What I do hate...is the people I live with inside...

Yes...I...I don't like my family. I can't say I hate them...because I know it's wrong. I don't hate my mother. She's the one who gave birth to me. I don't hate my father. Had he not married my mother, I probably wouldn't be here either. And I don't hate my brother. He shows me who I shouldn't be...He shows me the wrong things in life, and so I use him as an example on what not to do...

But still...if I could live with anyone else in the world, it wouldn't ever be my parents...

My name is Ronald Knox...I'm fifteen years old...And everyday is another nightmare, another day that is most likely to be filled with pain...Sometimes I go to bed, hoping that I'll die in my sleep...

Today...seemed like it would be worse...

I wake up in my usual spot...The floor in what would normally be a living room but really is just a barren space in our home. My head's sore...Pounding with pain in my left temple. Trembling, I reach up and touch the spot, cringing as I feel a sting. I look at my fingers and see blood...Suddenly I remember the night before. My dad had hit my over the head with one of the pans in the kitchen...And that was after my brother and mother had beaten me down.

I do my best to crawl as silently as possible to the stairs, trying to get to the bathroom without running into anyone on the way. I stiffen in fear as I hear a groan from my brother. I guess he fell asleep in the kitchen. Half the time, he and our dad were drunk...They always reeked of alcohol...

I try to scurry away, but when his hand clamped itself around my ankle, I started screaming and trying to kick myself free. My body's dragged along the floor, my shirt going up to my neck while my brother takes me to the next room. Part of our living room has carpet...and my stomach goes numb from the rough material scrapping across my stomach.

"Little shit, where do you think you're going?" My brother says through his teeth as he drags me along outside. My fingers try to grasp onto anything, but all I succeed in doing is cutting up my fingertips and nearly tearing off my nails...It's cold outside, and the wet stone ground feels awful against my still exposed stomach. Suddenly, my brother throws me down in front of him and for a moment I gurgle as I'm tossed face down into the filthy water of the gutters. I immediately push myself up, coughing and gagging from the disgusting taste in my mouth, but I'm forced back down into those waters by my brother's foot.

"Stay down, brat!" he shouts at me and I glance up as best I can when I hear something hit the ground in front of me. It's a small coin purse... "Mom and Dad said to send you out to fetch some thing. God knows why YOU get to go out." he muttered the last part of his sentence before the pressure on my head is released and Matthew goes inside. I slowly get up, my arms shaking from fear...I grab the purse and quickly run off...Anything to get out of this place for a while...

I go out into town. There's a small list inside of the purse and I easily get everything needed. As much as my family says I'm useless and stupid, I can still follow a grocery list. Instead of words though, my brother draws pictures...He hates how I can't read...

As I'm getting milk and eggs, the last things on the list, I catch sight of an odd man dressed in black...He's very tall. He looks like someone of a higher class than me, but still not too high up there...A very business style about it. I'm immediately surprised by his eyes though. They're green, but with a funny lighter green ring around in the middle...He glances away from the book he's reading and looks at me. I immediately panic and turn my attention back to paying for my items.

As I'm leaving the small store, the man approaches me. I stiffen and try to quicken my pace.

"I don't see why you try to head home sooner. Don't you hate it there?" he asks, in quite possibly the smoothest and most calming voice I can ever hear. I immediately look back at him, shocked. He fixes his glasses with a strange metallic pole, the end that pushes up his glasses being two sharp blades. I quietly gulp in fear at the sight of those blades...

"I...I'm sorry, sir...I don't know what you're talking about..." I say softly.

"...So innocent. A very good attribute." He says to me and looks at me through those glasses of his, "...Such a shame...So young, yet you're already going to end..."

I almost panic by his words. End...? What does he mean...?

"...Young children shouldn't deserve to go..." And with that, he suddenly leaves, walking past me with a small breeze. For some reason...I suddenly reach out and grasp onto the end of his black coat. The material is very nice...Not thin like my clothes.

He looks back down at me and my grip tightens, more out of fear than anything else. But I think he sees something in me...My eyes maybe...And he ends up reaching down for me. At first, I flinched and shut my eyes tightly, expecting to be pushed away...I'm surprised when I feel nothing but a gentle hand running through my hair. Slowly my eyes open and I see this man petting my head.

"You poor thing..." he says to me, not once looking away or pulling his hand from me, "I bet you're very sweet and kind, right...? Caring about yourself last...Putting everyone else ahead of you..." he almost smiles at me...Almost. " ...I'll be sure to make our next meeting a less...unpleasant one." he finished before pulling his hand away from me and walking off once more. I'm left standing there, reaching out for the man once more...It felt nice...being petted so nicely...

As he disappears into a crowd of people, I realize something...

"I'm late!"

I have to hurry home! I fell behind in time because of that man! I clutch my items as close as I can without breaking them as I run toward home.

The moment that door opens though...I immediately hit the floor. For a minute, I'm dazed...And my entire face hurts. In front of me, all the things I had bought were sprawled across the floor, some of the contents spilling out of their containers...

"You're late, you stupid boy!"

I flinch at my mother's words before she snatches me up by my hair and drags me up to my knees.

"How is a mother to get any cooking done if her own useless son can't bring what she needs in time!" she shouts as I'm forced to go after her on my knees, my hair still held tightly in her hands. She takes me to the bathroom upstairs. On the way up, I nearly fall twice, and half way up, I'm just dragged along by my hair, which only seemed to anger her more.

When I realize I'm in the bathroom, I'm immediately frightened...For every mistake I make, each one has it's own punishment. Talking back results in a slap. Spills are punished by being forced to clean _while _being whipped with that nasty leather belt, and that's after I have my own face rubbed into the mess...regardless of what it is. If I break something, I pushed onto my hands and knees, my hands usually landing into the shattered pieces, making my palms bleed painfully...And I have to pick up every last piece with my own fingers. If I'm sent out to get groceries and forget something, I go hungry, and sleep outside...And when I'm late...well...I really fear being late for anything in this house...

I sob and start screaming apologies to my mother, saying nothing but "I'm sorry's" and "I love you's" and anything else that's sweet and kind to make her stop...But when I hear her set down that bucket, I immediately know that there's no talking my way out. I don't even have enough time to hold my breath before she forces my head into the bucket, water immediately filling my mouth and nose.

Mother holds me down, occasionally giving my head a jerk to force me to gasp in some way before pulling me back up. The taste of sweet air only last for a second before I'm forced back down to repeat the process. I try my best to not gasp and or cry out when she does this.

Finally, she pulls me out and keeps me out of the water and I pant breathlessly as Mother glares into my eyes, still holding my hair tightly.

"You worthless mongrel..." she mutters, "I regret even having you..."

I'm used to not receiving love...but no matter what Mother does to me...Those words still hurt more than anything...More than any punch...More than any beating...Those words literally stab me in the heart far worse than any knife could.

I'm throw down to the floor and she leaves me there. For a while, I just lay there, shaking and too scared to even breath. I want to cough, feeling water in my lungs but I'm scared that if I make any noise, she'll just come back to do more...

I must have been laying there for a long time because I suddenly hear the door open and shut. My father and Matthew are home...They go out everyday, doing any form of job or favor in exchange for money...And I mean any job or favor...

I can hear them chatter about under my in the kitchen. Father must see the water dripping through this rickety floor and into the kitchen...And it must anger him, as if I'm the one who spilled all this water.

There are heavy stomps coming up the stairs, but I don't even try running any more...Why try? They'll find me no matter where I hide...The bathroom door opens once more and my arm is gripped tightly. I'm forced to roll onto my back and my father grasps my chin, making me stare into those angry blue eyes of his.

"Look at this mess! Because of you, the entire kitchen is being dripped into!" he shouts at me, "If you were on time for once my wife wouldn't have had to do this!" He never calls her my mother...He doesn't even call me his son. She's his wife, not my mother...

He holds my arms down and I wonder curiously what's going to happen next. A shadow looms over me and I see Mother standing above with the bucket holding the water that wasn't spilled out. For a small bucket...it carries a lot...Lucky me...

Father grasps my chin and forces my mouth wide open with my head tilted back. At this angle, both my mouth and nose are exposed to Mother's next move. She tilts that bucket over and I almost try to squirm away as the water hits me full force, landing right into my mouth and nose. I kick a little, coughing and gagging as water is forced into my air way. I start screaming more apologies...as if Mother and Father will have mercy on me...But mercy doesn't exist in this house.

When Mother runs out of water, I'm released and I try to cough out as much water as possible. None comes up...but I still try.

"No matter what we do, you just don't seem to learn, you worthless rat." Mother hisses at me.

Another tight hold is applied this time to both of my ankles and again I'm dragged along the floor. I don't know where I'm going this time...

Somehow, I end up being tossed onto a bed...Mother and Father's bed. The pillows are so comfortable...So cool and soft...nothing like the hard floor I usually sleep on. I want to snuggle them so much...

Hands suddenly grasps at the edge of my shorts and my breath hitches in fear. Oh no...Oh, good Lord of all that is above, no! Not this...not that...I sob as I'm stripped naked by both Mother and Father. This shouldn't happen! It's not the first time though...

For hours and hours, all I feel is the pain of being violated by my own parents. I try countless of times to scream for help...I scream for them to stop. I scream for Matthew. I scream for the nearest neighbors...Yet no one comes to save me. It hurts so much...My eyes drip so many tears, I'm sure I could possibly drown in them...I'm bleeding in so many places...I don't even know which injury hurts more. My throat feels so raw from screaming, either for salvation, death, or pain...

It had to end soon though...It felt like forever, but soon I was just rolled off the bed and I land on my stomach on the floor, the wind being knocked out of me. I sob pathetically as they leave me. I can't move...it hurts too much.

I just lay there...I can hear them downstairs, still...Eating dinner together. My stomach doesn't even call out for food. Even it has become frightened to make a noise.

Through a single shattered window, I can see the stars slowly appear and I wonder if they all passed out downstairs. Perhaps...I can sneak some food? I will my body to move and manage to redress myself from the waist down before going downstairs as quietly as possible.

Just as I suspected, they were all asleep in the living room. I can see a familiar bottle in my Father's hand. He always drank beer...Something about it just called out to him. I wondered what was so special about the drink and tip-toed over. It's empty though...He drank every last drop.

Suddenly I remember where Father kept the rest of those bottles, all filled to the brim with fresh new drinks. He kept them well hidden...But I found them in the end.

There were so many kinds...I didn't know which to try...

I wondered, why am I so insistent on drinking these...? But I didn't care. All I knew is that when Father drank them, he'd forget almost everything the next day...So maybe, if I drank them too, I'd forget today as well!

One by one, I begin to open and drink away at each bottle. The taste burned my throat, and at times was even bitter...I tried them all, but the one that I seemed to not get enough of was the one I recognized in an instant when I first saw it. Father called it "Whiskey."

I drank...

And drank...

And drank some more...

Until I suddenly started to feel very sick...And very tired...all at once. My stomach nearly forced its contents out of my mouth but all I ended up doing was moan with discomfort before I suddenly fell over and slipping into the dark...

When I woke up...I looked around...Still in home...But it didn't seem like any time had passed by...

"Name: Ronald Knox. Aged 15 years. Cause of death: Alcohol."

I was awake when I heard that familiar smooth voice, "I'm not dead!" I shouted. He was there...the man in black with that weird metal pole...He then motioned to the left of me and I looked...

There I was...laying where I had fallen...No breathing...No movement...Nothing. A sob spills from me, "I'm...I'm not dead, though..." I say, trying to convince myself more than anything.

"Doesn't seem that way..."

I looked up at that man again, "If I'm dead then why are you here!" I shout. I was angry...Angry at myself...Angry at this man...Angry because I couldn't wake up from this dream...

"I am William T. Spears. I'm a Grim Reaper at the London Dispatch Society."

William...? Wait...Grim Reaper he said...?

I just couldn't make any sense of this...

"And I'm here to offer you another chance."

I look up at William, "A second chance? You mean I can live again?" Somehow, the idea of living scares me..., "I don't want to live! Please! Kill me! I don't care for this life anymore! Kill me, please! So I can escape this Hell!"

There's sympathy in William's eyes and he shakes his head, "Not that kind of second chance. Besides...I'd never let you return to a life like this. What I meant, is that I can give you a life...as a Reaper."

A Grim Reaper...to forever live among the Death Gods...Without any pain...Or abuse? ...Yes...Yes, please...I practically shout my answer, "Yes, please...Please, take me from here. I don't care what I it takes, just take me away!" I latch myself onto his leg like some worthless street child...

"From here on out...You will be training to become Reaper Knox...I know you'll do fine." William tells me, once again petting my hair...

From that day forward...I left behind my abused life...But no matter what I do, no matter who I become...I'll never escape the memories. I will always dream of the abuse...The fear...Everything...No role in the Shinigami Realm will ever change or fix that...Not at all...

_**-oOoOoOo-**_

_**For my friend on tumblr. This one-shot is based on my own headcanons on my Ronald Knox RP tumblr: Ronald-DeadlyBoy-Knox.**_


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